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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404677">The Kiss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightToMidnight/pseuds/TwilightToMidnight'>TwilightToMidnight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perceptions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Kissing, Chaos, F/M, Points of View, Rumors, Workplace Relationship, kiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:41:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightToMidnight/pseuds/TwilightToMidnight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>3 separate incidents lead to the start of the unlikely relationship between Hermione and Draco, instigated in various ways by many unwitting and unwilling accomplices. No one has any idea what's going on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perceptions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Kiss Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>3 separate incidents. Each told from 5 different points of view. None of them from Hermione or Draco. Everyone is confused including your dear author. This is the start of my perceptions series which will have 3 parts, 5 chapters each and each chapter will be uploaded every second day. M rating mainly for potty mouths and imagination.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Agnes Finkle – Lunch Cart Lady – Employee of the British Ministry of Magic – Purveyor of fine Puddings.</em>
</p>
<p>He was lingering again. Sweet child that he was. Hesitating over his pick for dessert though she knew his favourite was always the Strawberries and cream and maybe the chocolate when he was feeling contemplative. His sheepish glance up through his clear and telling grey eyes belied a kindness that the rest of the world couldn’t or wouldn’t see.</p>
<p>Even though the years have faded those sweet cheeks into angular, handsome features, Agnes still had to resist the daily urge to pinch them like she did when he tagged along with his father on ministry business when he was still shorter than her cart. Back then, Lucius Malfoy would lift his son into his arms and allow him his pick of the sweets in the cart.</p>
<p>The war had left some marks of stress between his brows but they lent him an air of maturity that humanised what would otherwise be harsh features. No, she would not call him classically handsome but certainly striking and eye catching enough that several witches standing behind him at the lunch cart were happy to observe him rather than fuss over his hesitation.</p>
<p>His long, fine, fingers danced over his selections then darted down with all the agility of his seeker reflexes and plucked up a cup of Strawberries and cream pudding as he sent her wink and laid down a galleon before sauntering away.</p>
<p><em>Sweet Child, </em>Agnes mused with a fond smile as she turned to serve her next customer, <em>always coming all the way from the department of Mysteries to level 4 to visit</em>.</p>
<p>“I’ll have a chicken pie and a bottle of Butterbeer, thanks Agnes.”</p>
<p>Attention diverted back, she cast a jaundiced eye on the expanding waistline of one Egbert Eddington, “No, you most certainly will not. Mrs. Eddington has informed me that you are on a strict diet and are allowed only a garden salad and a plain tea.”</p>
<p>The moustachioed man of almost 70 years spluttered and tried for a pout but Agnes had seen him in his glorious 20s and furiously agreed with his wife. With a righteous snap of her wrist, she shooed his greedy hands away. “That’ll be 3 galleons and –”</p>
<p>A scream and an expletive rent the air and Agnes’ eyes snapped up from her till and a scene of utter chaos greeted her.</p>
<p>There, in the centre of the of the receiving lobby of level 4, at the British Ministry of Magic, at the lunch hour on a Tuesday afternoon, was Hermione Granger, shirt torn off one shoulder, pinned to the door of her office with Draco Malfoy’s lips latched firmly to hers.</p>
<p>Behind them stood Harry Potter with his unmistakable shock of black hair, his hand buried in the hair of aforementioned Draco Malfoy, holding the couple together. A house-elf to their left squawked and danced hysterically while holding a shoe and one heavily pregnant young witch clutched Minister Shacklebolt by the robes, screaming for her husband.</p>
<p>Agnes gaped at the utter cacophony. <em>Oh dear. Indeed. Oh dear. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Kiss Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>2nd Point of view of the series and a little more of the story</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Kiss. Part 2.</p>
<p>
  <em>Kingsley Shacklebolt – Minister of Magic – Guardian of Wizarding Britain – Aficionado of silk purple robes</em>
</p>
<p>He needed Granger now. In fact, he need her an hour ago when the territory negotiations between the Centaurs of the Caledonian Forest and the Northstar werewolf pack had abruptly soured over an off hand remark about mange and someone’s distant cousin.</p>
<p>Though Granger had a mind like a steel trap, that woman was a true bleeding heart, campaigner. A whiff of creature suffering meant that Kingsley was suddenly left holding the bag, as the muggles termed it, handling the ever increasing hostilities between two species who tended towards aggression on their best days.</p>
<p>He’d shuffled endlessly through the debriefing packet she had laid in his hands only that morning, and had discovered close to 26 inches of parchment, dot-pointing each event of contention between the packs from the late 1700s til now. He had to be forgiven for missing the finer details and letting that cousin comment pass undisputed.</p>
<p><em>Damn that witch, </em>he cursed her under his breath as he stormed from meeting room 9, slamming the door behind him and silencing it over the growing raucous fight behind it. Smoothing his frayed temper as he smoothed the cool purple silk of his robes, Kingsley raised the hem lest he step on the fresh tailoring and glared at Percy Weasley ahead, who had been attempting to close the grates of the lift.</p>
<p>The pretentious brown-noser froze, almost bowing in the awkwardly full confines of the lift to allow Kingsley to slip in.</p>
<p>It was good to be Minister of Magic sometimes, he noted, as various departmental employees pressed themselves against the wall of the lift in order to give him some space. <em>Good, </em>he nodded to himself, he was in no mood to have the silk wrinkled today.</p>
<p>He grabbed a gold handle just as the death trap jerked into motion, throwing the occupants sideways then downwards until it stopped with no warning. A gratingly sunny voice announced their arrival at the Department of magical law enforcement.</p>
<p>Kingsley swatted at the few inter-departmental memos which raced in and out, almost missing the arrival of Harry Potter and a heavily pregnant woman whom he vaguely recalled from the Order meetings during the war.</p>
<p>“Potter.” He greeted, dropping the hem of his robe in order to shake the young man’s hand. Always good to maintain positive public relations between himself and the wizarding world’s saviour.</p>
<p>“Minister! Err…” He gestured to the pregnant woman beside him. “You remember Katie from the Order, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Kingsley grasped the bolt of recognition. “Of course! It’s Mrs. Wood now, isn’t it? I hear…Merlin, are you quite alright?”</p>
<p>The lift lurched into motion and Kingsley grasped the young woman’s shoulder to keep her from falling. On closer inspection, she seemed to be sweating quite profusely and her lips were pressed into a firm, pale line.</p>
<p>Potter rubbed his neck awkwardly as Katie Bell-Wood gave a jerky shrug, hand tense and white knuckled on her protruding abdomen. “I’m trying to get to the public Floos. May need a mediwitch soon.” She said by way of explanation.</p>
<p>“Oh.” It dawned on Kingsley quite quickly why Potter was acting like Bow Truckles had climbed into his trousers.  “Right, well. You’d better come with me, quick smart, young lady. We’ll open a connection from Granger’s office.”</p>
<p>As if to punctuate his statement, the lift again jerked to a halt on it’s perilous journey to level 4 and Kingsley grasped an elbow, leading Katie out as Potter cleared a path.</p>
<p>They were halfway across the marbled lobby of the 4<sup>th</sup> floor when the poor young woman groaned and doubled over midstride. Kingsley made to grab for her shoulders but he was foiled by his new silk robes tangling around his boots which sent him pitching forward, knocking Katie in the shoulder and resulting in them both tumbling to the ground.</p>
<p>Kingsley righted himself quickly, auror reflexes still intact, only to be startled into losing his footing again by a sharp scream and a curse. He twisted and yanked at his robes, tearing the seam caught beneath his boot.</p>
<p>“Damn.” He snapped, his gaze darting around. “Potter. For Merlin’s sake. Release Ms Granger and Mr Malfoy at once and come help me with Mrs Wood.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Kiss. Part 3.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our next point of view. And the story evolves!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Kiss. Part 3.</p>
<p>
  <em>Katie Bell-Wood – Auror – Wife to Puddlemere United Keeper, Oliver Wood – Has not seen her ankles in months</em>
</p>
<p>Her husband was many things; brilliant Quidditch Keeper, worthy team captain, noble Gryffindor and attentive life partner. Outside of of Quidditch however, Oliver Wood’s attention to detail was non-existent. It usually never bothered Katie; misplaced keys and abandoned cups of half drunk tea were, after all, easily remedied. However, now, despite having started her maternity leave close to four weeks ago, Oliver was still sending her Owls at the Ministry which was all fine and good when a light letter could be redirected to their home, but not so helpful when an exhausted Owl, having flown all the way from Bulgaria, refused to go any further with a package strapped to its leg.</p>
<p>So every week, Katie found herself bemusedly visiting the Department of magical law enforcement, tolerating the coos of the secretaries and striving to ignore the stares of the men who leapt out of her way like pregnancy was a contagious disease.</p>
<p>Her department head was the worst though, always bending to address her swollen waistline as “the next generation of Quidditch Elite” before greeting Katie.</p>
<p>Though she liked to think of herself as generally good tempered, Katie admitted that today, she was feeling extra grouchy, her temper on a hair trigger from sleep deprivation and general discomfort. The demon-spawn had spent half the night beating her bladder like a bludger and now she was having some seriously strong Braxton-Hicks.</p>
<p>Surely this wasn’t the start of labour, was it? She was only 37 weeks and every woman in her family had gone overdue with their first.</p>
<p>The thought gave her a jolt and she picked up her pace, snatching a small brown paper wrapped box off her old desk, tearing off the packaging even as she made a sharp turn, making a bee-line for the lifts before anyone could stop her.</p>
<p>Cool metal and fluttery wings met her palm as the paper fell away. The winning game snitch, from Oliver’s team’s last victory.</p>
<p>Katie felt a smile pull across her lips. She missed that wizard so damn much right now. He should’ve been here to…</p>
<p>“Oi, Bell!” She looked up and spotted Harry crossing the room in large strides. “Back again? Why doesn’t Wood send you letters at home like a normal bloke?”</p>
<p>Katie felt an instant wave of fondness for the young man who had saved all their backsides time and again; at least Harry still treated her like a normal person instead of a leper. “Who knows. He’s so –”</p>
<p>She lost her breath and her sentence as sharp pressure gripped her as another Braxton-Hicks contraction timed itself perfectly with her demon-spawn rolling over on her insides.</p>
<p>“Merlin, Katie. You right?” Potter was starting to look a little green around the gills as he watched her expression.</p>
<p>“Never better.” She gritted out through clenched teeth, starting to suspect the worst. “Don’t suppose you have a minute to walk me to the Floos?”</p>
<p>He seemed to sense the urgency in her request, because he dropped a handful of paperwork on an unsuspecting passerby and proceeded to grasp her by the elbows and usher her swiftly towards the lifts.</p>
<p>The next few moments passed in what Katie would later recall, somewhat of a pained blur. As her double damned luck would have it, she encountered the Minister of magic in the lifts, wearing the most hideous purple robes she’d ever seen and attempting to make conversation.</p>
<p>She was never more thankful for Kingsley’s keen observation skills than when he began to usher her across the level 4 lobby towards a closer fireplace. Too damned bad that he damned near knocked her over in his haste.</p>
<p>Katie stumbled as a heavy shoulder thumped her from behind and she reflexively put her hands out to break her fall, the snitch taking flight, whizzing past her head just as she felt a hot gush of fluid between her legs, instantly soaking her slacks.</p>
<p>“Fuck!” She grabbed for wizard next to her, pulling herself upright, never mind him being the Minister of Magic. “Get my damned husband home from Bulgaria! Now!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Kiss Part 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry has a panic attack.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Kiss. Part 4.</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry Potter – Auror – Boy who lived TWICE – Ginny Weasley’s Tuesday night squeeze</em>
</p>
<p>He was having a damned good day.</p>
<p>The sun was shining, the birds singing, the Holyhead Harpies had won last night by a good margin which had meant muffled, urgent victory sex with Ginny while James slept peacefully in his cot in the next room.</p>
<p>He had snatched the last cinnamon scroll from under Pucey’s greasy Slytherin nose this morning in the cafeteria and his latest case involving the smuggling of Welsh Green dragon eggs had practically solved itself in the past week. Literally. The smuggler and apparated straight into Harry while he had been skulking in Borgin and Burke’s in his invisibility cloak.</p>
<p>This was shaping up to be a good day to head home early, have another victory roll in the proverbial hay with his wife during James’ afternoon nap.</p>
<p>All he needed to do was wrap up some paperwork, dot his Is and cross his Ts, file away his parchments and Floo away. Maybe he could squeeze in a Butterbeer before heading home since Ginny was likely…</p>
<p>“Oi, Bell!” Paperwork could wait. “Back again? Why doesn’t Wood send you letters at home like a normal bloke?”</p>
<p>Katie was a good colleague and auror and Harry was rather fond of her and Oliver Wood. He had quietly rejoiced when they had announced the pregnancy. There was a damn good Quidditch player gestating in her right now, though he would never say so out loud; Katie’s Bat Bogey hex was as good as Ginny’s if not better.</p>
<p>Her lips turned upwards in a grin as he circled around a flustered intern to speak to her. “Who knows. He’s so –”</p>
<p>Katie grimaced, a hand going to her rounded abdomen, the other, half reaching as if to grasp for her absent husband. Harry watch her fingers clench and a fine sheen of sweat appear of her upper lip.</p>
<p>“Merlin, Katie. You right?” Oh no. Oh no. He had seen this horror movie before. This was happening just like all his nightmares. Only, instead of Ginny going into labour in the middle of muggle London while they shopped for animal themed onesies and having her grip his shoulder hard enough to maim, it was Katie, her cheeks a little flushed and Wood, hundreds of miles away in a foreign country.</p>
<p>Katie’s lips were moving as Harry stared blankly.</p>
<p>Right. Right. She was saying something about Floos. Good plan.</p>
<p>There was a loud buzzing in his ears even as he made what he supposed was sensible conversation when they entered the lift and encountered Kingsley, of all people.</p>
<p>The trip in the lift was interminable. He was sweating bullets and there was a tingling numbness spreading across his lips as he took shallow, panicked breaths. Ginny was wrong. He wasn’t over the trauma of James’ birth. He couldn’t do this. He’d say no…when Ginny brought up the possibility of another child…he’d say no, and he’d never have to see the pity in the Mediwitch’s eyes again when she revived him from a dead faint after he’d seen that alien creature crowning.</p>
<p>He couldn’t do this. The walls of the damned lifts were closing in; were they always this small? How could this many people breathe in the same space; they were running out of fucking oxygen. They were all just breathing each other’s exhaled air, touching unnecessarily, potentially about to fall to their deaths in this death trap –</p>
<p>The lift doors slipped open just as Harry made a panicked grab for them. His feet carried him through before they trapped him again.</p>
<p>Hermione!</p>
<p>He could see her ahead of him, holding a furiously weeping house-elf brandishing a shoe, propped her hip like a toddler.</p>
<p>Hermione would know what to do. She always knew. She was the logical one. She would stop him from spewing his lunch on the Ministry floor in front of the Minister of magic and Katie Bell.</p>
<p>“Hermione!”</p>
<p>A humming buzz rushed past his right ear a moment before a gold glint caught his attention from his peripheries. <em>A snitch! </em>He was reaching for it before the logical part of his mind had even processed the thought.</p>
<p>It changed course and darted to the left at the last moment and Harry, unable to stop his forward momentum, accidentally grasped a fistful of short blond hair, barrelling into a man who had stepped in front of Hermione just that moment.</p>
<p>There was a muffled squeak, a click of teeth clashing together and a sharp rending of fabric. Then there was a house-elf brandishing a shoe against itself, shrieking with tears as Harry watched the horror that was Draco Malfoy, pinning Hermione against the door of her office, wide eyed and frozen in the moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Kiss. Part 5.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Kiss. Part 5.</p>
<p>
  <em>Lippy – Indentured Malfoy House elf – 221 years old – Hiding beneath the kitchen counter </em>
</p>
<p>Lippy is a good elf.</p>
<p>Yes, she is.</p>
<p>Lippy…Lippy doesn’t deserve this. No, she doesn’t.</p>
<p>That’s what master Goyle always said to Lippy.</p>
<p>He’s a good younger master. He said if he were Lippy’s master, he’d never do something so cruel as to cast Lippy out in the cold streets to fend for herself…to be cold and homeless and sad and lonely and…to be…</p>
<p>…to be a free elf!</p>
<p>Oh it is horrible! Lippy had served the Malfoys faithfully for centuries, had seen master Draco be born, grow; had chased him around the manor with pants when he went through that naughty phase of pulling off his diaper and running into the gardens bare bottomed every time mistress Narcissa turned her back.</p>
<p>What had Lippy done to offend young master Draco?</p>
<p>A great heaving sob tore from her chest. Master Draco was about to cast her out!</p>
<p>“Lippy?”</p>
<p>She squeaked and tucked herself tighter into the dark corner beneath the kitchen Island.</p>
<p>“Lippy!”</p>
<p>Master Goyle’s shoes appeared around the counter as he knelt.</p>
<p>Such a nice young master.</p>
<p>Master Goyle is presenting Lippy with a glass vial, filled with a sparkly, yellow liquid. Yellow like master Draco’s beautiful, blond hair.</p>
<p>Despair wells up and hiccupping sobs rumble again from her chest. She can’t stop even when young master Goyle tries to calm her.</p>
<p>“Swallow it, Lippy. Quick, before Drake gets here!”</p>
<p>“Is it poison, master Goyle?” She gasped a teary breath. “So kind you are master Goyle; Lippy could never survive on the streets as a…free elf.”</p>
<p>Master Goyle looks flustered. “Um…No. Lippy, it’s for luck.”</p>
<p>Lippy is so surprised when master Goyle says this. “For luck? For when I am cold and alone on the streets?” The tears cease for an instant.</p>
<p>Master Goyle looks around the kitchen. He’s rubbing his neck. “Lippy, we talked about this – Draco will free you then bring you straight home –”</p>
<p>The SHAME! To be freed was the ultimate insult to a house elf. It meant Lippy had shamed the family! Had failed in her duties to the master and all the family! Oh, Lippy could never face her fellow elves again!</p>
<p>“Lippy.” Master Goyle grasped her shoulders and gave a gentle shake. “You love your master Draco, right?”</p>
<p>“Indeed, I do, Master Goyle.” She sniffled and the tears began again, soaking the thin tea towel which covered her. “He is the finest young master! So good and tall and handsome…”</p>
<p>“Then you need to drink this.” He pressed the golden vial into her trembling grasp. “It will…umm…stop Draco from getting rid of you…”</p>
<p>“HOW?” She wailed. The other elves hiding in the kitchen shuffled at her exclamation. They all felt ashamed of her, she knew! The first to be freed among them. The SHAME.</p>
<p>Master Goyle shushed her frantically, holding a finger to his lips and glancing around nervously. “If you drink this, Draco will marry and have children. He’ll need you then. He could never get rid of his best nanny elf Lippy, now could he?”</p>
<p>Wondrous wizard magic! “Really, master Goyle? Do you promise Lippy that young master will give Lippy the honour of raising his heir?”</p>
<p>“Lippy!” Master Draco’s voice echoed down the staircase.</p>
<p>“Yes! Yes, I promise. Now drink up.” It tasted wondrous! “There’s a good elf…now, when you get to the ministry, there will be an officer from the department for Regulation of Magical creatures; I want you to ask them to see Hermione Granger immediately. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>A feeling of wellbeing washed over Lippy. “I will ask for Miss Granger immediately.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Goyle stood and held out a hand to her. “Let’s go.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welcome to the end of Part 1 of my Perceptions series. Is the picture a bit clearer now? Didn't expect Gregory Goyle to be lurking in the background did you?</p>
<p>Please anticipate part 2 of the Perceptions series, THE RUMOUR, coming soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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